


Three times Jeremy Mathieu was caught smoking and one time he wasn't

by ledeuxiemesexe



Category: Football RPF
Genre: FC Barcelona, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledeuxiemesexe/pseuds/ledeuxiemesexe
Summary: Jeremy is a known smoker. After signing for FC Barcelona, he needs to keep his bad habit to himself. But can he?





	Three times Jeremy Mathieu was caught smoking and one time he wasn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahhhhrexa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhhrexa/gifts).



Prologue

 

Jeremy was not usually this tense, he had had his fare share of transfers, to bigger and bigger teams. But this was different, this was FC Barcelona. The crown jewel in any players' transfer records. So nerves were normal, although he did wish he were more composed. He could really go for a cigarette, but he knew damn well he couldn't. 

He had read the internal regulations word for word, as any new signing should, and he knew FCB demanded the best of behaviour from all its players. They had to be role models, for kids, teens and even grownups everywhere. And smoking was obviously not allowed. FCB even ran an antismoking campaign.

He would have to quit, or at least indulge extremely rarely. He was dead sure that the Board knew of his habit and would comment thereon at this very meeting. He knew trespassing would have consequences, especially for something this awful. 

The craving soared as he understood it became forbidden, but went away as soon as he was informed that Bartomeu was ready to receive him. And in he went, to sign the papers and shake those hands and become a FC Barcelona player. 

 

*

First Time

 

He couldn't imagine what he had been thinking. The pressure of the impending Clasico was surely a factor, but it was childish to blame the game for his own misdoing. 

Since his signing, he had managed to keep a low profile with regards to his smoking habit, doing it only in his own house, well away from the media, and extremely rare, anyway. As he was not a high profile footballer, paps usually kept their distance from his private home. And, as much as he had been tempted sometimes, he had not done it elsewhere, not until that fateful day, his first Clasico. 

It was the day before they flew to Madrid and he had felt more tense than he had ever been in his entire life. Pushed by some evil power, he had snuck out of the training compound as soon as training had finished and, as secluded as possible, he had lit a cigarette in the underground parking lot. It had been less than a minute, the smoke had not even entered his lungs all the way through, when he heard a surprised shout that made him freeze.

Turning around, he made eye contact with none other than king of misbehaviour, Dani Alves. 

“Ha, you're smoooking!” Dani let out, slapping his thigh in laughter.

Still in shock, Jeremy dropped the cigarette and stomped on in all in one go, the badly inhaled last smoke making him cough.

“Don't tell anyone!” he let out, as soon as he managed to regain his composure, still breathing heavily.

Dani kept laughing cheerfully, approaching him, eyes on the extinguished stub.

“I won't. But you have to do something for me,” he let out, a wicked glint in his eye.

Before Jeremy could react, the cigarette was secure in Dani's hand. 

“Blackmail,” Jermey uttered in defeat, trying to not imagine what would happen should Dani tell on him. 

“Let's not put it that way. It's going to be just a harmless prank. Then you can have this back. To smoke or destroy, your choice!”

“A prank?” Jeremy breathed in relief, as it couldn't be too bad.

“Yes, nothing complicated. Just put a certain item in a mate's locker.”

“Who's?”

The two men locked eyes, Dani's again with the glint. Jermey didn't have a good feeling about it anymore. He felt foolish, remoreseful. 

“Masche's!”

Jeremy almost gasped in terror. It was clear that Dani was having too much fun with it, and that he would have to do it. Thinking about it, it was no different than the hazing he suffered at the hands of his new teammates when he had joined Sochaux's senior team. But he was young and impressionable at the time. He wasn't as young nor as impressionable nowadays, but Javier wasn't exactly the person to prank. It would be a hurdle. 

“Fine!” he let out, trying to sound as upbeat as he could. 

“Great, we'll do it after the Clasico.”

 

*

 

It had happened too fast, almost. Javier had opened his locker and had been immediately doused in the concoction of bubble bath and beer. Everyone laughed, even Iniesta, except for Jeremy, who was so petrified, he couldn't even feign amusement. He knew it made him look guilty, but he had no recourse.

It didn't take too long for Javier to stride towards him, not exactly angry, more a little bewildered, not understanding why would the Frenchman of all people do such a thing, Jeremy already stuttering an apology. 

“Look, it had to be done, I am sorry, but I had to, you've never been pranked and they asked me, you'd not be as angry with me as with Pique, for instance!”

“It's true,” Xavi intervened, startling Mathieu even more, “we all conspired, it was a team effort.”

“And Jeremy did this?”

“Yes,” Xavi and Jeremy said at the same time. 

Javier looked at them for a while, she sheepish Frenchman, the amused and defiant Catalan and burst into laughter. Waking towards the shower , he relented“All right, all right. It wasn't fun for me, but at least you guys got a chuckle. I'll let it go this time.”

 

*

 

Second Time

 

It was the day of the Copa final. With La Liga in the bag, done and dusted, only two games remained. The final played later the day, and the Champions League final a week later. Jeremy knew he wouldn't start, but he had an inkling that he would get some minutes, perhaps a late substitution. He was tense and, as usual, he could do with a nice Gauloise. He had a pack stashed in his locker, for emergencies, but he knew better. 

Still, need was growing in him, and the bustle of the locker room felt far away. In his bubble, Jeremy decided he would take his chances. He rummaged for the pack, extracted just one cigarette and the lighter, and made for the toilets. 

He knew that the far left toilet in the row was just under a vent and he was tall enough to be able to use it without being detected. He locked the stall door and got on top of the toilet bowl. As such, he was directly under the vent, less than 10 cm below. His head could be seen from outside the stalls, but he knew that typically his colleagues would leave him to his business undisturbed unless he took way too long. This would take only 4 minutes, he imagined. 

He lit up and took the first drag. He had not smoked that much lately, not even in the privacy of his own home. His last one had been nearly 2 weeks before. He inhaled deeply, savouring the smoke, the aroma. 

He was half way through when he heard a chuckle outside the stall. He didn't even have to crane his neck to spot Neymar and Rafinha making faces and pretending to smoke. He froze for a few seconds, realising that the Brasilians would not hesitate to take the same route as Dani had before them.

“Jeremy, we won't tell anyone. Can we have a drag too?” 

He climbed down, extinguishing the cigarette by dipping it in the toilet. He exited slowly, trying to look menacing. 

“Stop being so childish, this isn't a joke. I am very tense and I couldn't help myself, but this is a bad habit and I'll be damned if I let you follow in my path!”

“Sheesh, you're not our dad!” the two scrambled out, roaring with laughter.

Jeremy concealed the cigarette butt and retuned to the common area. Both Neymar and Rafinha were separately talking to other people, out of reach. 

It took Javier nearly until the Champions League final to extract promises from both Rafinha and Neymar that they would keep the secret. The hassle made him renounce smoking outside his home for good, even removing all smoking materials from both Nou Camp and the Ciutat Esportiva. 

 

*

 

Third Time

 

The plane ride back from Eibar was crazy, the good game pumping them up and Gerard's Periscope live filming bringing unwanted attention to the players. Jeremy couldn't tell why he had done it, pretending to smoke, on live broadcast, it was as if the devil himself had tempted him to do the one thing he knew he shouldn't.

The fans were mostly delirious, and some distraught, but the management was seriously angry. Therefore, it wasn't just Gerard who sat in the President's office, waiting for a scolding, Mathieu joining him as well.

After getting an earful from Bartomeu, after Pique promised to be more cautious and Mathieu insisted that he had quit a long time ago, they were both released and were allowed to go home without a fine or any other disciplinary measure.

The problem was that now, after the whole debacle, Jeremy actually felt like a cigarette again. He had indeed quit after that fateful Copa final day, not even doing it at home. But now, the gesture performed on camera had brought back the memories and the desire had risen in him again.

Although he knew he should wait to get home, Jeremy threw all caution to wind and began searching for the stashed cigarettes in his car. Considering that the coast was clear, he crouched in his seat in order to minimize the risk of being seen and he lit up, taking a few deep drags. The eyes watered as it had been a while, but the sensation was the same, the familiar sting, the burn, the aroma.

He smoked quickly, not allowing himself to dwell on each inhale, as he was aware he was in the Ciutat Esportiva parking lot and that he could get in trouble. He was almost done, nearing the very final few drags, when a knock on the window startled the hell out of him, making him drop the cigarette.

Scrambling to pick it up, burning his fingers and wheezing with the effort, Jeremy realised he had fucked up immensely. Finally, with the cigarette extinguished and the butt in the ashtray, he glanced at his near assailant. It was Gerard, doubled down, smirking and demanding a chat.

“Gerard, god damn it!”

“It's on you, Jeremy, I had no idea you were smoking in here, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted a beer. We could commiserate our telling off.”

“No, Gerard, no. Thanks.

“You told them you quit!”

“I did, I had quit, it's hard to explain, really.”

Gerard shook his head, copiously amused.

“Look, just don't tell anyone, this needs to stay between us.”

“Well, I got us into trouble the first time, you can have my word.”

Jeremy looked Gerard in the eye, the Catalan seemed serious enough, any remnants of the merriment of before gone from his face.

“Cool, I owe you one!”

“Nah, forget it, it's not good for you to be indebted to me!”

Jeremy nodded solemnly. Bidding him adieu, Gerard departed towards his car. After watching his younger teammate drive away, Jeremy started the car and proceeded home, feeling all kinds of silly. 

 

*

 

One Time He Wasn't 

The chaos of the big bang couldn't have been more chaotic, the frenzy after the absolutely miraculous and stunning Remontada against PSG reaching unprecedented levels. The players jumped up and down, howled, pushed each other, beat their chests, the din growing louder and louder by the minute.

Everyone was in a state of utter bliss, expressing their joy by any means conceivable. It had been extreme and perfect, the celebrations trying to equal the madness of that game.

Sergi Roberto was being carried on his teammates' shoulders, Neymar was being crowned with various crown shaped objects, Messi gestured wildly next to an almost unrecognizable Suarez, both their faces glowing with sheer exuberance.

Jeremy felt the victory all the way down to the pit of his stomach, where it seemed to glow warmly. He was elated and ridiculously happy, and he knew that in that moment, nothing could go wrong. Every one of the men in the room, even the ones who hadn't played one single minute, even the ones in the stands, like him, had an aura of invincibility. 

And that was when he knew, it was the perfect timing. He could finally do the one thing he had dared and promised himself he would when he had signed for Barcelona. He would smoke in the sanctuary of Nou Camp, and unlike the previous time, when he had been caught, this time he would be unperturbed. 

He slinked away from the festivities and retreated into the parking lot, empty for once. He knew everyone would still be going for a while and he could take his time. He lit up and took a long, electrifying drag. It felt good, to finally be able to savour it, to finally complete what he had unbeknown to him, had been his main non-sportive ambition since signing up for FCB. He realised all those other times, when he couldn't help himself but smoke on the FCB premises, it hadn't actually been the nerves, not as much as the apparently deep sated desire to do something outrageous, rebellious. 

Barcelona was highly regimented, everyone knew their posts and kept to them. And everyone had their side-gig too, letting off some steam one way or another. Dani Alves had had his #goodcrazy antics, Neymar his shirtless music playing videos, Messi his Weibo account, Pique the pranks and sometimes, taking it to eleven with the Twitter and Periscope oversharing. As for him, he had been a good soldier, generally complying with the rules of conduct, but aware that once in a while he would have to do something outrageous.

This was his moment, and it was perfection. In his head, Johnny Cash's Solitary Man played in the background, as he leaned on the concrete wall and relished his cigarette to the very last drag. As the final act of defiance, he put it out on the very wall, examining the dark spot for a few seconds before carefully scraping it with his thumb.

Packing the butt in the wet-wipes pack he had brought along for the occasion and popping some extreme menthol gum in his mouth, Jeremy went back into the festivities area, grinning ear to ear and ready to join the party.


End file.
